Five Times Blaine Was Unhappy About His Height, And One Time He Wasn't
by BlurtItAllOut
Summary: This is my first try at the "Five Times, And Then One Time"-genre. As the title says; Blaine was unhappy about his height five times, but then one time he wasn't. See author's note in chapter 1 for more about this story's progress.
1. Five-and-a-half-and-then-some

**I tried to resist, but my muse demanded that I start writing this.**

**This is my first try at the "Five Times, And Then One Time"-genre, and unfortunately I don't have five ideas yet. Maybe I'll never complete this, maybe I'll just publish the ones I do manage to write for your enjoyment. Oh well, each part will be independent and fully possible to read on its own, so no damage done if I can't complete the 5+1-style. I do have 3+1 so far, but I have vague ideas for things I'm not sure if are worthy of entire chapters yet. **

**Please let me know what you think about this, and if it's hopeless and useless I'll stop wasting time on writing it, when I have two other WIP's to take care of. I kind of fell in love of the scene in this chapter, so I wanted to share it with you, and I do hope you'll enjoy it!**

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"Yes, let's hope he feels better tomorrow, so he can come back, but I'll keep him home if he has a fever," Blaine hears his mom say on the phone. She hasn't come to wake him up yet, but he still woke all by himself, and when he could hear the birds tweeting in the tree outside his room, he knew it was morning. So he decided to get out of his bed. If it wasn't morning, he'd have to find something to do while he waited, because Mama and Daddy don't like it when he wanders alone in the big house at night. He has a colouring book and some crayons in a drawer in his bedside table for confusing maybe-mornings like these.

But today isn't confusing, except Mama just said someone is sick. Blaine knows Cooper is already off to school, because the door to his room was wide open when he passed it on his way downstairs. Cooper has posters taped to the door, and had told Blaine about them not long ago. One is of a woman in black clothes that look uncomfortable, covering her entire body tighter than the tights he had to wear last winter under his pants, which turned out to be from when he was four, when he in fact was five by then. Now he's five-and-a-half-and-then-some. The woman on Coop's poster is floating on her back in the air, shooting some bad-guys with her guns. Coop had called her Trinity, which had confused Blaine, because they kept talking about God, Jesus and Trinity in kindergarten, but he'd never gotten an impression that they had weapons. Coop said she was from a movie he could see when he was older, and maybe that's when they'll explain if she's related to Virgin Mary, or if she's Jesus' pretend-aunt just like Blaine's pretend-aunts in kindergarten?

The other poster is of a woman Blaine knows very well, because he got Lego Star Wars from his grandmother, and he didn't know what Star Wars was then, but Coop explained everything for him, so now he knows what Star Wars is. And that woman is Queen Amidala. Blaine doesn't understand why Cooper would want her on his door, though. He thinks Yoda is much cooler. Or maybe Jar Jar Binks, he's a lot of fun.

So if Coop isn't sick, maybe it's his dad? He's away, travelling for his work again, and sometimes Blaine wishes he had the same dad as Tom has. Mr. Olsson is always home after kindergarten, and he put up a huge swing in the backyard for Tom, and Blaine is allowed to play with Tom as long as he tells Mama where he goes, and won't cross the road. It's not that Blaine doesn't love his dad, because he does, but it would be easier to love him more if he saw him more, Blaine's sure of that. Sometimes he scrunches his eyes, trying to remember how his dad looks. Fortunately, there's a wedding picture in the hallway he can use as a reminder. Except his dad is now fatter and balder, and the last time Blaine saw him, his dress was light grey, and not black – and his beard has changed. It now covers his entire chin, and not just along his cheeks. Silly.

Blaine peaks around the corner to the kitchen, where his mom is making tea, and obviously done on the phone.

"Is Daddy sick?" Blaine whispers carefully.

His mom twirls around, and is by his side in a few steps, crouching down so she can smile at his face, and not just the top of his head.

"Of course not, Baby B, why would you think that?"

Blaine wraps his arms around her neck, and rests his head on her shoulder. He loves the mornings when they have time, and Mama isn't nagging about getting ready so she can take him to kindergarten and then drive off to work. This seems like a morning where they have some time.

"You told the phone someone was sick," Blaine explains, and fingers the pretty necklace his mom is wearing. He knows it's a gift from his dad, he'd given it to her the last time he came home. Mama had cried and called him a cheater, and Blaine had watched hidden on top of the stairs. His dad had given her a box in silver wrapping with a big bow, and Blaine had to hold on to his feet to make sure he didn't reveal he was listening, because he really wanted to run down and see if his dad had bought him something too. He wasn't sure if Mama was sad or really happy, but then they kissed, so she was probably happy. Blaine had been confused, though, because when their mom got the call from Cooper's school that _he_ had cheated on a test, he had been grounded for two weeks. Maybe grown-ups can't be grounded, but have to buy shiny jewelry when they cheat?

"I was talking with Miss Edwards. Do you remember who she is?"

Blaine nods, because of course he remembers. She's the newest pretend-aunt in kindergarten.

"I told her you wouldn't be coming in today," Mama tells him, and runs a soft hand up and down his back.

But… If he wasn't going…

"Am _I_ sick?" he asks, lower lip trembling, and his eyes are getting wet and difficult to see through. He doesn't feel sick, but maybe it's something really serious that comes as a surprise? He'd been watching Pippi Longstocking with his brother the other day, and he couldn't understand where her parents were. He knew her dad was captain on a big ship, but not one of Coop's space ships; it was a boat in Africa. Cooper said Pippi's mom suddenly got sick and died, but it was okay, because she didn't feel a thing and wasn't in any pain. And Blaine isn't feeling any pain at all! A few tears are trickling down his cheek, and he isn't scared of dying, if it isn't painful. But it's Cooper's birthday next week, and he'd been really looking forward to give him his gift, he's made it himself, and it took for_ever_ to get it ready! He's made Princess Amidala out of clay in crafts, and even wrapped her up in pretty paper himself. Miss Edwards only had to help him twice, when the glue tape got stuck. One of Amidala's boobs fell off while she was baked in the oven, but Cooper probably won't mind. It's just a boob. At least she still has both hands, and can use her lightsabre. But now he won't get to see his brother's reaction, because he's dying? He cries some more, just in case.

"Oh Blaine, what kind of stories have your brother been feeding you now?" his mom says softly, and holds him close. "You're not sick, everything is okay. I just told Miss Edwards, so you could be home with me. I'm not working today, and hoped we could spend the day together, doing something fun. And I was going to let you sleep in, little munchkin," his mom laughs, and Blaine can't help but laugh with her.

"You lied to Miss Edwards? But she's so kind!" Blaine objects.

"Young Mister Anderson, lying is never good, whether the person is good or bad."

"So why did you lie to her?" Blaine wonders, scrunching his forehead in a deep frown. His mom is a good person.

"Well, I wasn't exactly lying. I think we're both feeling a little homesick, and we need to cure that."

"What's homesick?"

His mom stretches her legs, and lifts him up, even if he's a big boy now. She sets him down on one of the tall stools by the kitchen island.

"That's when you're feeling sick just thinking about going to work, and need to spend a day at home to avoid getting sicker. Or in your case, if you went to kindergarten today, you'd be thinking about the cookies I'm going to make and rather be here, longing until you felt sick."

"Oh." That made sense. If his mom were making cookies, he would probably think about that all day. It would be just like the time his dad had told him they'd go to the circus the next day, and it felt as if he had to be in kindergarten for at least 30 hours before he was picked up. 30 is a lot, lot.

"So, what do you want for breakfast? You can have anything you want?" his mom smiles, and Blaine gawks at her. Anything?

They eat pancakes covered in banana slices and chocolate sauce.

Afterwards, Blaine feels as if his legs are living a life on their own, and he can't sit still. His mom sighs something about sugar rush, and suggests they go outside. She finds her garden equipment, and kneels by the flowerbeds, while Blaine runs around the house at least four times. When he asks to go to the Olsson's to use their swing, his mom says it isn't polite to visit people who aren't home, so instead he finds one of Cooper's many basketballs and messes around with it. One day he'll be old enough to play with his brother.

All of a sudden, Blaine feels tired, so he lies down on the hammock. His mom is humming something, and he thinks, hopes, maybe she will teach him more on the piano later.

When Blaine opens his eyes again, his mom is kneeling by the hammock.

"Was it a good nap?" she smiles at him. He nods tiredly. He didn't even know he had been napping.

"Are you ready to make cookies now?" she continues, and that makes him feel very awake.

"Yes!" he shouts, and jumps out of the soft pillows, and runs inside as quickly as possible, and one day he'll be able to run just as fast as Cooper's long legs can.

In the kitchen, he gets to help his mom make the cookies. She measures the ingredients, which is the most boring task anyway, while he's in control of the buttons on the mixmaster. Mama warns him against getting his fingers into the whisks, and of course he won't. When they're both satisfied with the dough, she gives him a spoon and a baking tray, and then gets a set of spoon and baking tray for herself, so they can make their own cookies. He makes some mess on his paper, but Mama reassures him they will cook just as well.

"How do you feel about a picnic in the backyard, with lemonade and fresh cookies?"

"I feel…" Blaine muses, making his thinking face where he taps an index finger against his temple and rests his chin on his thumb. "…super-happy," Blaine grins.

"Why don't you get the blanket from the couch, and find a nice place in the sun for us?"

Blaine can totally do that! He grabs the blanket with both hands, but it's so thick and big, and it's difficult to see where he's walking behind the big bundle in his arms. So instead, he grabs it by a corner and drags it after him with both hands through the hall, out the door, down the four steps, across the graveled driveway, and back to the lawn.

"Hi Kissy!" he greets his red cat, who jumps down from the fence and prances in his direction. The cat always looks as if it has a sour expression, so Blaine had decided to call her Kissy when he got her for his fourth birthday. Maybe she would be happier, if she got a lot of kisses and hugs. She still doesn't look happier, but at least she's really cuddly, and will often come to Blaine whenever she seems him. She isn't allowed to sleep in his bed, but Daddy says he'd caught her red-handed. Which was stupid, because the entire cat is red.

"You like the sun. Where do you think we should sit?" he asks the cat, who's doing those dance moves around his feet again, her tail tall and wrapping around his thigh. When she seems to be satisfied with her weird dancing, she stretches all of her legs, one by one, before finding the spot on the grass where the sun is shining the brightest. There she lays down on her side, her tail gently swooshing over the grass. Blaine grins, and dumps the blanket not far from her. It's big, and he has to walk to all four corners to stretch it out and make it as even and neat as possible. It's actually quite hard work, especially in the heat, and he hopes Mama will be done with the lemonade soon

He sits down dead center on the blanket, pleased with his effort, and is trailing a finger along the whimsical pattern, when movement in the grass catches his attention. Something tiny is jumping, but it's difficult to see when the grass is so tall and dad was angry because Cooper hasn't mowed "the damnlawn" yet. So Blaine crawls carefully on knees and elbows to the tiny thing. He coos loudly when he sees the little black bird jumping on its tiny legs. It's still so fluffy, and looks shaky on its legs, so Blaine decides it has to be a baby bird. He doesn't touch the bird, even though he really wants to, but he doesn't want to scare it. So he rolls over on his back to think, keeping an eye on the bird. It flexes its wings, but to no use. Maybe it needs flying lessons from Dumbo?

There's more shadow where Blaine is lying, with the big tree above him and all. He remembers his grandpa telling him about the different trees and flowers in the garden, at least those he'd called natural and not "mumbo-jumbo botanical fanciness." Grandpa is funny! And he'd told him about the animals that live in the trees, like bugs and squirrels and birds. Maybe the little bird lives in the tree, but fell out? Blaine's Mama is always warning him about leaning out too far on the balcony outside his parents' room, in case he'll fall down.

"Did you lean out too far?" he asks the bird, who stops skipping around. "Are you lost and can't fly on your own?" The bird just looks at him, silent and still.

Blaine decides that must be it, but how does a bird who cannot fly get back home? There's no ladder around. Maybe Blaine can help him? From where he's lying, it doesn't look too far up to the branches. Yeah, Blaine is gonna help the baby bird.

He gently scoops the bird up in his hands, and even if the baby bird is tiny, it fills both his hands, and his fingers are trembling, afraid of hurting the bird. The bird is silent, just watching him while blinking rapidly. Carefully, carefully, he raises his arms in the air to place the bird down on the lower branch, but he can't reach! Even when he stands on his toes, it's still too far. He wonders if jumping might help, but what if he drops the bird, just like the time he was jumping on the couch with a juice box in his grasp? Mama had made Cooper wash the entire living room-floor, because he'd done a splendid job at babysitting, Blaine had overheard. He hopes he'll never have to babysit Cooper, because he doesn't know how to wash the floors yet. But maybe he won't be good at it anyway. Cooper listens to him most times, but sometimes he orders Blaine around too. But he's begun teaching Blaine to dance, and that's cool, at least as long as Cooper remembers his legs haven't finished growing yet.

He still doesn't know how to help the bird, though, so he decides to do what he always does when in doubt – find Mama. He carefully squats down to lower the little bird to the corner of the blanket, and the little bird chirps a little. It seems sad.

Blaine looks around, and spots Kissy crouched down on the grass, tail swaying softly from side to side.

"Oh Kissy, good, you look after Little Mr. Birdy while I'm gone, okay? Make sure he doesn't go anywhere, so Mama can help him back home," Blaine instructs the cat, before hurrying back inside.

There his mom is pouring lemonade into a big bottle, and she's prepared the picnic basket with the deliciously smelling cookies, plastic glasses and napkins.

"Everything set out?" Mama asks, and Blaine nods vigorously.

"But I need your help with something," he adds. "Little Birdy told me he doesn't know how to get home."

Mama looks at him funnily, but hoists the basket onto the crook of her elbow, and takes his hand in her other.

"Okay," she says, "tell me more about this."

By the time they've reached the picnic blanket, he's told her everything about the lost, but hopefully not homeless, bird, how it needs a rescue mission, how Blaine tried everything he could, and how Kissy is now looking after Little Mr. Birdy. His mom hasn't said much, just letting him talk, but humming in response when Blaine looks pointedly at her to make sure she's listening.

Blaine drops to his knees to crawl over to where he left the bird, wary of not scaring it off. But the bird isn't there!

"Where did he go?" he asks Kissy, who's now resting lazily on her side in the sun, paws crossed in front of her. She flaps her tail, as in a twitch, but doesn't otherwise respond to Blaine. "Mama, I left him exactly here, so I could find him again," Blaine explains, and points with his index finger at the spot he knows the bird was. He slowly crawls around to see if the bird has jumped off, trying to find it in the tall grass.

Mama has gone over to Kissy, and looks at something between her paws.

"Baby B, I don't think the bird is here anymore," she says softly. Startled by her defeat, Blaine jumps up and runs to her.

"But we have to keep looking, so we can help him home!" he objects.

Mama quickly hides something in her hand, but she isn't quick enough. She has a few black feathers sticking out between her fingers.

"Why would the bird leave his feathers?" Blaine asks, bottom lip trembling.

"Oh Blainey," his mom coos, and she sounds so sad, so Blaine falls into her embrace. "Remember I told you animals aren't like humans, when you wanted to give Kissy a slice of your birthday cake?" Blaine nods against her shoulder. "Sometimes animals eat other animals."

"But Kissy has kiblets in the kitchen," Blaine objects, because his Kissy can't be like those animals. His cat is _nice_!

"But Kissy is still a cat, and her instincts tell her to eat animals."

"What are instincts?"

"It's something in her brain, honey. And no matter how much kiblets we have, her cat-instincts…"

"Her cat-brain?" Blaine interrupts to make sure he understands.

"Yes, baby, her cat-brain is still a cat-brain, and sometimes she'll eat other animals."

Blaine listens to his Mama's words, and when they finally register and make sense, he starts crying. Mama holds him tightly, and he sobs into her sweater.

"I could have saved him if my legs were longer," he hiccups against his Mama's warmth, and she pets his hair with slow, gentle strokes down and down, twirling his curls around her fingers.

"Do you want us to have a memorial service for the bird?"

"Like we did for grandma?"

Mama nods, and Blaine perks up at the idea. She takes a napkin from the picnic basket, and makes him blow his nose, and then wipes his tears with another.

"We need flowers," Blaine insists, and his mom lets him pick a few from her flowerbeds. He puts them down by the corner of the blanket, where he left the bird. Mama pours a glass of lemonade and offers it to him, along with a fresh cookie.

"Now what?" Blaine asks.

"Now we share all the happy memories we have from the one who's dead."

"Oh. Okay." Blaine thinks for a little while. "He had really nice, shiny black feathers. And it seemed as if he was trying to talk with his eyes. He looked at me a lot. His heart could beat really fast. Umm… I didn't know him so well yet," he sighs, and takes a bite of his cookie. He chews slowly, and takes a sip of the lemonade to get rid of the crumbs in his mouth. "I wish I'd met him later, when I'll be taller," he says sadly, and Mama wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Do you think there will be other lost blackbirds I can save later, when my legs are done growing?"

"I'm sure there will be, Baby," Mama hums, and kisses his hair.


	2. A Prince Without His Kingdom

**WOW guys, you are awesome - thank you so much for the generous and positive response to the first chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this second installment too.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything you might recognize.**

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Blaine tries not to flinch or cower when the Seniors pass him in the hallway. As a Freshman, he's obviously the youngest in high school. But he's also the smallest. The growth spurt he's been hoping will kick in anytime soon, seems to be delayed. In his saddest hours, wide awake from nightmares about shrinking legs and thigh-stubs shoved into big clown boots to help him stay balanced, he fears it's cancelled all together.

He observes, but isn't sure if his findings are source for optimism or pessimism.

Blaine had been the second lowest in his class in eighth grade, half an inch taller than Martin. But something happened to Martin over summer break, and he's now at least two feet taller than Blaine. Or so it seems, when they pass each other in the hallways. Martin isn't the only one of his old classmates that have changed in the transfer from middle school to high school. A lot has happened on Kate's chest. The reason Blaine notices, is because he likes her sweater, and the jeans she's paired it up with.

Blaine is more and more confident about why he recognizes the sweater from his mom's Vogue magazines before he acknowledges her curves. It's the same reason he could gush about that still unnamed Junior's really cute smile with a crooked tooth and huge dimples. He'd first seen him washing his hands in the little boys' room, and Blaine had been so entranced he almost forgot why he was there in the first place.

The thought has been more and more prominent for a while now, but he hasn't told anyone.

Middle school had been fine. Not great, not bad, bud not neutrally bland either. It helped when he entered eighth grade and was among the oldest in school, and by default ruler of school. Or at least some part of the monarchy, a lower heir. He had some good friends, he had some followers who never got tired of cracking _vertically challenged_-jokes he alternately laughed at and ignored, and he had a bunch of acquaintances he could nod to in the hallways and exchange a few words with before the teacher arrived the classroom. He likes sports well enough, and he's always up to date on the music charts and latest movie premieres, so he always has something to talk about. He has interests not everyone shared, but that's okay, he's street-smart enough to know what to talk about and what to keep silent about to stay off of the radar. He's learned how to be charming, entertaining, quirky enough to be amusing but not as much as to end up an outsider, he can be funny, and he's good in his classes without it stifling his conversation topics. He knew how to navigate as an eighth grader, and was something of a Prince Charming's cousin.

But now he's in high school, and has as much credibility and influence as the court jester. Thanksgiving is coming up, and he'd hoped that he by now would feel more settled down. Instead, he feels like a ticking bomb, as if he's waddling in the silent water before the storm, as if there's a target painted red on the back of his head.

He's been given looks, some hostile and some merely quizzical. There's been some name calling – nothing he hasn't read on various message boards and chat sites for LGBTQ youth. Blaine is wondering if coming out will make it all better, because how much fun can it be to call him a "homo" if he's confirmed that he in fact is gay?

He's been able to blend in decently in his classes. He's polite, easygoing, has a good sense of humour, and is well enough liked by most to be accepted by his classmates. He has someone to sit with during lunch, he's never in need of a lab partner, and he was even asked for help with a history test, because he's sincerely interested in the French revolution. It's the older highschoolers who have problems with him, but he thinks it's mostly because of a survival instinct that makes all Freshmen keep together until they've found their spot in the hierarchy and established their allies and alliances. The Freshman truce is shaky at its best.

Blaine is slipping, his footing is faltering, and he's waiting for the inevitable. His lack of interest in dating girls wasn't an issue in middle school, when there were superheroes, action figures and football to have more fun with. But now, in high school, everybody's hormones seem to have woken up. In two weeks the school is hosting a Sadie Hawkins-dance, and he can hear the boys talking about which girls they would say yes to, and he can see the girls throw expectant and curious glances as they build up steam to ask a boy out. He's even seen a girl or two look at him with a dreamy expression, and he just doesn't want to risk rejecting anyone. It feels wrong to go on a date, even a school dance, with a girl when he's almost definitely certain that he swings the other way. He wants his first date to be memorable.

During lunch, the boys in his class keep talking about the girls they fantasize about asking them out, even some of the obviously unattainable Senior cheerleaders. They discuss strategies to let the girls know they are a-okay with being asked, they plot how to make sure the right girl asks them out, and they weigh the alternative of going with a girl they don't really fancy against not going at all.

All the while, Blaine silently, surreptitiously watches Toby from the corner of his eye. He's a Sophomore, he's on the football team, he's really cute, and he's an active participant in one of the discussion boards Blaine spends most time on. He recognized Toby, because he wasn't particularly good with maintaining his anonymity – or he didn't care about it. Blaine, however, has been very careful about giving any personal information, afraid that his sexuality and online participation somehow will come back to his parents. He knows that Toby is well on his way out of the closet, and he wonders if he should introduce himself. Maybe it would be easier if they were two openly gay kids in this school? Maybe they could even go to the Sadie Hawkins-dance together?

Blaine plays with the idea of asking him out, while the boys discuss Kate's boobs, wondering if they are fake or real.

A bunch of guys from the hockey team, and Blaine wonders if they ever walk on their own as individuals, or if the pack mentality comes with the uniform, stop by Toby. He can't hear what they say to him, but one of them spears one of his sausages on a fork and pretends to fellate it. Blaine isn't sure how the mind of a bully works, because basically he's the one making a fool of himself moaning around a Frankfurter, as if he's the one who would enjoy deepthroating someone. The want and need to come out grows, standing up next to Toby and fight together with him. He'll have to figure out a proper way to ask him to go to the dance with him

On his way out, someone by the jock's table trips him, and he lands on his knees, humiliation warming him like a ferocious fever.

"Oh, didn't see you there, midget queer," one of them leers.

"It must be a practical height, with all the cocksucking," another chimes in.

Blaine wishes he was brave enough to say something, but he simply gets up carefully, brushing off the dust on his pants, and walks on as if nothing happened, ignoring the dull ache in his knees. Maybe the novelty and fun will wear off if he doesn't show any reaction? He's not even sure how they have gotten the idea that he's gay, because so far it's only the online discussion boards and his diary that know.

Out in the hallway, he passes a fourth of the football team, and they all seem to tower over him with their broad shoulders and tall bodies.

"Hey Johnson," one of them asks loud enough for Blaine to hear, him and half the hallway. "Did you know some boys are born with too much estrogen, making them gay?"

"I know!" the one supposedly called Johnson replies, "freaky fags. All the girly shit stunt their growth. Ever noticed how all the short ones are butt-buddies?"

Blaine wracks his mind to come up with a gay celebrity over 6 foot tall, but he comes up short on the limited time before he can feel something heavy hit his lower back. He groans, and looks at the hockey puck spinning on the floor.

Not for the first time, Blaine wonders how much easier things would have been if he'd inherited his dad's height, like Cooper did. He wonders if Toby gets less of this, being at least a foot taller and an active player on the football team.

Dejectedly, he walks on to class, thinking he might do some more online research on growth spurts, hormonal treatments and leg transplants when he gets home.

What he does get when the school day is finally over, is an armful of big brother. Cooper is waiting on the parking lot to pick him up, so he won't have to take the bus home. Considering Blaine didn't know his brother was visiting, the surprise overshadows the relief of avoiding the bus and canned transportation system with a side order of bullies. It turns out, Cooper didn't get the last role he auditioned for, and with no upcoming auditions on the horizon, he decided to visit his folks. He may be here for a couple of days, or a couple of weeks, depending on what happens in LA to lure him back. Blaine decides to make the best of it, who knows for how long he has his brother here? Sure, their relationship can be awkward, with the age gap and other differences. But he's still Blaine's big brother. They still appreciate watching Star Wars together, although Blaine's favourite no longer is Jar Jar Binks. They still have fun choreographing mash ups and duets, and Cooper gives him inside tips from the business, some of them actually useful. His expectations of Blaine are still unrealistic and ridiculous, just like they were when Blaine tried to nail choreography too complicated when he was still trying to coordinate his legs for this walking and jogging-thing. But at least Cooper never failed in encouraging Blaine to reach further and farther – if only his big brother could influence his legs to grow.

He decides during the short car ride home that he'll come out to Cooper as soon as he finds an occasion. For better and for worse, he's always made Blaine want to try harder and be better. Being honest about himself, daring to share this difficult secret – who other could he come out to first?

Their parents are still at work, and the maid is preparing dinner and making the Anderson kids' help redundant. It's one of those rare warm November afternoons, and the basketball hoop is still mounted to the back of the garage. Cooper rummages through the shed, and triumphantly returns with a basketball.

"First to 21, loser does the dishes," Cooper grins.

Blaine makes himself a promise. If he wins, he won't have to come out to Cooper yet. If he loses, he'll tell him before he goes to bed. Cooper would always beat him in basket, but Blaine's now older and better. He's practiced, he knows he can make longer and steadier shots now. He's learned strategies to compensate for his shorter legs. He puts everything in the hands of fate.

"Wow, you really don't want to do the dishes, do you Squirt?" Cooper grins later.

Blaine is working so hard to block his brother's every shot and feint his way passed him. But Cooper is resting his elbow on top of Blaine's head, laughing and exaggerating their height difference. Blaine pretends to take a right, but quickly jumps to the left, trying to get around his brother. But Cooper just jogs backwards, and easily stops the ball.

"If I make this shot, you've lost," Cooper grins, bouncing the basketball in the asphalt a couple of times.

Blaine knows his chances are better if he tries to stop the ball by the hoop than if he tries to block his brother. So he lets his brother stand unguarded, and rather circles under the net, waiting for his one shot. Or rather, his brother's shot. Cooper doesn't even move closer, but stands up on his toes and with a flick of his wrist flings the ball across the air. Blaine watches it soar towards him, and tries to time his jump. He knows he's bouncy, he knows he's good at jumping – dancing on furniture while singing Duran Duran with Cooper is a trademark.

He jumps, and the tips of his fingers brush against the ball, but it isn't enough to steer it away from the basket, and with an annoying thump against the asphalt, the ball secures Cooper his last points to win. Defeated, Blaine crouches down, hiding his face in his hands. The reality of this is sinking in, and he's petrified of having this conversation. He hasn't told anyone about this deal, so of course he can easily back out of it. But he promised _himself_, and he likes to think that he's a man of his words. So he'll do this, like the Anderson his father keeps reminding him they are supposed to be. He pinches the bridge of his nose; he is _not_ going to cry over this. At least not yet, and not in front of Coop.

"I didn't know the dishes offended you this much," Cooper grins, patting Blaine's shoulder as he walks in.

Blaine hates fate. And his short legs.

Dinner is a long and tedious affair, and the food seems to grow in Blaine's mouth. His mom looks at him worriedly, and wonders if he's feeling well. He simply nods, ignoring Cooper's jab about how he'll hopefully grow out of kitchen duties anytime soon.

His parents' china have probably never been as polished before. But in the end, he has no other choice but to seek out Cooper. He finds him in his old room. Even though he's 22, he still has a room waiting for him, whenever he needs to come home for support of the financial kind. Making it in LA as an actor has its challenges, and in downtimes he turns to his parents. Cooper is still optimistic, though, and continues to take all kinds of lessons whenever he has the money – accents, stage fighting, stunt work, and lately an extended first aid-class so that he can better portray a doctor. But right now he's in between both exams and auditions, and came home to save money. Blaine hopes his brother will be able to stay until Thanksgivings. It would be nice to celebrate with him, no matter how infuriating he can be. But it's two weeks away, the same week as the Sadie Hawkins, and Cooper never stays for that long, claiming Ohio is stunting him as an actor and performer. Coop is as predictable as a balloon in a storm, and can be out of here just as sudden as he appears again. He's been like that ever since he moved to LA as soon as he'd graduated from high school. That's how Blaine knows he'll have to tell him tonight, because postponing it until tomorrow can just as well mean postponing it for weeks and months.

Blaine takes a deep fortifying breath, and raises his knuckles in front of Cooper's door. Big brother opens it with a flourish, not even hiding how he's in the middle of a dance number. Blaine instantly recognizes Lady Gaga's _Just Dance_, and is surprised. It's not something Coop would usually listen to.

"Squirt! Having fun with the dishes?" he smirks.

Blaine doesn't say anything, just standing by the closed door, worrying his bottom lip. He's already made sure that their mom is drowsing in front of the TV with a book and a movie, and their dad is busy in his study. So there's no risk any of them can overhear the upcoming conversation a floor above them.

"Help me judge this choreography, will ya? I need to know if it's breathtaking, or simply leaves you in awe." Cooper fiddles with his iPod, probably looking for the right song.

"Cooper," Blaine says carefully, embarrassed that his voice is already quivering. "I need to talk with you."

Cooper looks up from the tiny screen, and for once seems to take Blaine seriously.

"Okay," he says simply, and sits down on his rumpled bed sheets. He pats a spot for Blaine, and his leniency bothers Blaine. It must show on his face how serious he is. It frightens Blaine, how upset he must seem. He doesn't want to be nervous. He doesn't want this to be a big thing. He doesn't want to be afraid of his own family. He doesn't want to feel this petrified.

"Blaine?" Cooper prods gently, for once using his real name and not some nickname from the animal kingdom.

Blaine swallows heavily. He should have prepared this better. He's read a lot of coming out-stories online, he knows how people can react. But what do you say? Why isn't he ever able to prepare a proper speech? It had been the same with his parent's wedding anniversary and for his grandfather's seventieth birthday. He'd been asked to give a speech both times, and thought it would be easy to say something nice and charming about people important to him. But he had ended up stuttering, fumbling, forgetting the lines he thought he didn't need to write down, and in the end sat down by a piano to sing a song instead of making an ass out of himself with his bad speech. But what do you sing to your brother when you're coming out? Except Diana Ross?

"Is something wrong?" his otherwise oblivious brother asks.

"I… I don't know," Blaine hesitates, feeling the copper taste from his lip.

"Please tell me this is an acting exercise, because you are scaring me," Cooper, says nudging Blaine's shoulder with his own.

Blaine takes measured, controlled breaths, and thinks maybe the best solution is to just say it.

"So…" he says to the hands in his lap. "I wanted to tell you. Something. And that thing is… Gay," he blurts out. "I'm gay," he adds, realizing he may not have been perfectly clear.

"Oh my God, is that all?" Cooper laughs, and wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulder. "I thought you were going to tell me something serious."

"This is serious!" Blaine looks at him wide-eyed.

"Yeah, yeah," his brother waves it off, "but it isn't something terrible."

"You don't think differently of me?" Blaine murmurs, blinking repeatedly and willing his tears to stay at bay.

"More girls for me when you really start working that Anderson Bro-charm," Cooper winks. "I work with gay guys all the time. I know it isn't contagious or dangerous," he whispers exaggeratedly when Blaine still looks dubious. He tightens his hold around him, and Blaine buries his face in his brother's shoulder.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" Cooper smirks.

"No!" Blaine splutters.

"Well, let me know before you go on any dates, because I have heaps of experience with the ladies in LA," Cooper wiggles his eyebrows, and Blaine rolls his eyes at him. "And if you don't have anything more important to say, I still have this choreography I want your input on," he says and scoots out of bed.

Blaine smiles relieved. He may have hated his short legs earlier, but this went much better than expected. He's out now. At least, he's begun his journey coming out. It went much better than he feared. He won't be one of those boys online with unhappy stories. He can do this. The bullies in school aren't a threat, and tomorrow he'll ask Toby to go to the Sadie Hawkins-dance with him.

Blaine will be all right.


End file.
